


Sweet Sangue

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Doggy Style, F/M, Frottage, Gothic, Grinding, Kissing, Love Triangles, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Neckz 'n' Throats, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Caught between Copia, a fiancé presumed dead, and Sr. Secondo, a husband undead, giving in to the otherworldly temptation of two is unavoidable.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus II, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus II/Reader, Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus II/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Sweet Sangue

**Author's Note:**

> Requested through that one site, Kold-Fish. Inquire about yours on my tumblr, @kissthegoghuleh.

The townspeople say you’re cursed, and they say Secondo Emeritus is a bitter recluse to be avoided by the good, Christian townspeople at all cost. That may be why you were such a good fit.

Neither one of you was wide eyed and naive when it came to love. Secondo was much older, and you had already loved and lost.

The matter of your fabled curse stems from the tragedy of your first fiancé’s death. Copia had gone to a Tuscan mountain village to secure a business deal with a mysterious Count. After weeks without a letter from him and endless worry from you, word had reached you the eve of your wedding night that Copia’s ship had gone down on his way back to England, and that he had been lost at sea. After the mourning period passed like the dark clouds over the moon, you had been encouraged by your family to seek new arrangements.

Not many suitors in the village had taken kindly to you. Yes, you were of marrying age and very beautiful, but the superstition in small towns was boundless. Word spread that you were a cursed bride, and any man who put a ring on your finger was doomed. Of course it was nonsense, but superstition leaves no room for reason. Over time and in your perpetual loneliness, you had found kinship in another outcast: the town’s eldest bachelor, Secondo Emeritus.

Secondo was a business owner and kept to himself, so much so that the rumours had twisted him up too. The people of the town called him a recluse, a bitter old man and a frightening sight, but all you saw was a solitary, respectable gentleman who was kind and doting to women, handsome if you’re honest, and above all else a friend when no one else was. Certainly he wasn’t as warm and tender as Copia had been and he was a bit morbid, but this only intrigued you. Copia had been interested in the same fascinations of the supernatural and the macabre sort, so it comforted you to hear of them again.

Before long, Secondo had proposed to you. It was during a night-time walk, and you had said yes. The townspeople had had a field day with this of course, claiming it inappropriate and punishable that a man of his age would be so lecherous to take a creature like you in her prime and spoil you with the touch of imminent death. Others argued that you would be suited to one another, to let the both of you rot inside the drafty manor and poison one another with your blasphemous existence. Neither of you cared to hear what hate they spewed, all the same. They only contested the union because Secondo guiltlessly celebrated pleasure; he openly indulged your fantasies, and furthermore treated you with the same respect he treated men. Nothing was inferior about you with him and no fantasy too wild, despite whatever silly laws bound the normal folk to their God-fearing ritual of daily life.

A grim confession had been made following your marriage however, one that found you thinking about this so-called touch of imminent death. Secondo had asked how you felt about the undead. Confused, you had replied you had read about them. Vampires, and fictional fancy such as that. He had then revealed his fangs to you—he was one of them, quite real and in the cold flesh. He was stunned when you hadn’t run to the local priest, and knew at that moment that he would keep you.

Now that you were married, Secondo showered you with gifts. His family was of ancient born vampires that went by the title of Papa as he revealed he did, and he had inherited many antiques from his father and eldest brother who had both been hunted down and murdered by a mob decades ago. His youngest brother had left around the same time to travel and pursue his flights of fancy and passion elsewhere, likely settling eventually in their Italian area of birth, but Secondo hadn’t heard from him. Terzo was never sensible about the affliction, your beloved had told you. He had seen it as a chance to do as he pleased, run rampant, kill and feed from whoever he wanted to. Dramatics were his strong suit as well, so Secondo was certain he would have embraced the dark lifestyle with fervour.

Not to say Secondo was a saint himself. He fed when he had to, mostly on the cattle in the hills with rare exceptions, but refused to do so on you. He had warned you that when swooning from the scent of blood, he was a dangerous man, and to never let him see you if you bled. You had agreed that that was probably for the best, and from the bottom of your heart, you trusted him not to try. He had a sure sense of self control, one that never wavered. He looked out for you, and hurting you was the last thing he’d want to do so early on in your life together.

Tonight, the moon hangs low over the small town. Secondo’s hands roam below your breasts then slide behind you to undo your corset, one torturous hook at a time.

“You’ve been gazing at me all day like that,” he smiles fondly, raising an eyebrow. “Do not think I haven’t noticed, cara mia. Have you been making eyes for any particular reason, hm?”

“You know the reason, Papa,” you blush, breath hitching as his hand finally hits a patch of your bare back. He grazes you there, one fang glinting in the moonlight.

“Yes. I know all too well what you need. And your Papa will fulfill you.” You had remained virtuous for the sake of propriety with Copia, but once Secondo had shown you what pleasures the night offered, you had been insatiable. He’s always glad to satisfy. He nudges the pants he’s filled out against the curve of your ass. “This time we must take care not to repeat the mistakes of our last, considerably loud tryst. The foolish villagers thought someone was being murdered from all the cries and screams.” He chuckles darkly. You press your forehead to his, and give the older man a kiss. He reciprocates gladly, growling against your lower lip and moving down to your hips to tease.

“Do you know you received a letter today?” Papa mentions.

“Oh? What did it say?” you hum.

“It was not addressed to me. I would not open something of yours, it belongs to you.” You frown, pausing your litany of affection over your husband.

“Where is this letter?” You honestly can’t think of anybody who would be writing to you.

“On the desk,” he nods, and you put a finger to his chest.

“A moment,” you say, and he nods, leaning back against the headboard and watching you. Your heart nearly stops when you read the handwritten name scrawled across the letter.

_A. Copia._

“Collector?” Secondo mutters. You shake your head slowly, unable to speak. Cold dread dilutes your bloodstream as you pick up the letter with shaking fingers. Just as you’re about to open it, a tapping sounds at the door downstairs. Secondo grumbles as he goes to get up.

“What do they want to crucify us for now? We haven’t even begun to make any noises yet,” he sighs. You put a hand on his chest.

“Wait. I’ll get it.” He hesitates.

“It could be someone looking for me.” He raises a meaningful eyebrow, flashing his fangs once more.

“Not in this weather.”

“And if it’s a vicious killer come for you? Hm, la mia bella rosa?”

“I live with one,” you breathe. You meant it as a jest, but you can’t bring yourself to smile. All you know is, you feel something pulling you downstairs to answer the door yourself; alone. You take up the wrought iron candle holder, do up the top buttons of your nightdress, and let the glow of the flame light your way down the staircase.

It’s begun to rain outside, and you feel a chill run through you. Realizing you left the kitchen window open, you pull a shawl around your body and close it. You turn the latch, open the door, and look up at the stranger waiting in the night. There, in a black cloak and hat, stands a dark figure, illuminated by the oil lamps behind, quickly doused by the rain.

It’s Copia.

The candle drops from your hand, flame extinguishing as soon as it hits the floor. His eyes seem to stare into yours as if the dark poses no hindrance to what he can see of you. 

“It’s... not possible,” you breathe, half to yourself and half to the vision on your doorstep. But it’s not a vision. He takes a step forward to reveal the face beneath the brim of his hat, and it’s most certainly his. His mustache, his eyes. He uses the handle of his cane to move the brim up, and manages a soft smile.

“Buonasera, bella.”

You feel you may fall down. Instead of fainting however, you open the door wider and hurry him in from the rain outside. He mutters a thank you as you take his hat and cane, resting them by the door. “This has to be a dream,” you whisper. Copia seems confused—then he realizes you’re referring to his state of being, very much contradictory to what had been reported.

“The ship went down,” he tells you, nodding. “But I made it to the shore. I was taken in by a Count—the same Count I intended to do business with, you do remember? I stayed at his castle until I was in good enough health to travel back here, to you. Infernal place, but I came to like it as I... returned to myself.”

“It’s been over a year,” you murmur.

“Si. I apologize infinitely for keeping you waiting cara.” He takes your hands, and walks you back against the wall. His hands are cold as ice. “But no longer. You have missed me as much as I have missed you, eh?” He hesitates, eyes flickering down lower than can be considered decent. “I can smell this.” He’s certainly more forward than he ever had been; Copia would have been the last one to instigate such a thing, in the hallway no less. Your lips part, and you get a good look at him.

Copia’s skin is paler, sickly almost, frown lines deeper set. His defining features still remain, his smile lines and sideburns. But there’s something ethereally different about him—his freckles have disappeared, his cheekbones are more defined, and the warmth from his cheeks is gone, leaving you with a visage that could only be described in this light as ghastly. It’s unnerving.

Copia brings a hand up to stroke your cheek. His nose brushes against your jaw, and he seems to be focusing intently on your neck; you pull slightly out of his hold, and he doesn’t stop you or hold you back. Your lips however remain inches from his, and Copia begins to tilt his head to move in and take yours as he’d longed to do since leaving.

“Who’s there?!” a voice barks out, startling you both. You turn to see Secondo coming down the stairs. Out of relief or duty—you’re not sure which— you run to him. Copia looks surprised; crestfallen even.

“Who is this, cara?” he manages out.

“My husband,” you say. You avoid his eyes.

“You’ve married,” Copia murmurs. “I see.”

“Who are you to call my wife ‘dear’, vagabondo della notte?” Papa demands. The shorter man looks into his eyes.

“I am Signore Copia.” Silence fills the foyer.

“Your deceased fiancé,” Papa mutters to you. He’s quiet for a moment. “Interesting.”

“I’m sorry,” Copia says, bowing his head out of respect. “I didn’t know.” He goes to shake Papa’s hand, but when their hands meet, something strange happens. Both men look at each other with a knowing sort of glance, eyes narrowing between them. Copia’s eyes flare wide in a sudden flare of aggression, and Papa quickly snatches you away from him, pulling you to his side.

“Stay behind me,” he instructs.

“Why?” you ask.

“Have you, eh...?” Copia asks, nodding to you.

“No,” Secondo sneers. “And you will not either. Away!”

“I do not intend to leave so easily, Signore,” Copia says, eyes narrowed as he advances on you both. “Not now.”

“What do you mean?!” you blurt, panic flooding you. Both men turn to look at you again, and Secondo sighs.

“Your past beloved is one of my kind. He has been turned into a creature of the night. That is why he is still alive... if you could call it that.” You look back to Copia. He’s a vampire as well, and the two have obviously become territorial over you. You have to defuse this before it ends in blood—however apt the expression. 

Before you have to intervene however, Copia seems to get a hold of himself, straightening. The softness in his eyes returns, and he takes your hand. Secondo gives him a warning glare, and Copia presses a chaste kiss to it only.

“I apologize. It is, eh... new for me, si? I do not know how certain things feel, and I have the difficulty controlling my impulses still. I was turned by the Count Emeritus. He passed the affliction to me. He and some others he keeps to entertain.”

“Count Emeritus you say? My charming brother,” Secondo mutters drily. “Bastardo. _Typical_. I hope you had your fun with him, Signore. The rest of your eternal life will be joyless as your pre-marital bed.”

“Your brother?” Copia balks.

“Si, younger.” Secondo shakes his head. “He does not know how to control his urges.”

“And you do?”

Secondo glares at the other man. “How dare you challenge my restraint when your fangs nearly sunk into my wife’s neck seconds before I intervened?” You feel a thrill run through you at that, and feel both men’s eyes on you. They can smell the arousal, and your face heats up at the realization. “You like this?” Secondo frowns. You look up at him weakly, unable to respond. Copia has begun to shift at the door, and Secondo realizes something, however humbling. “Would a night with him put these desires to rest? Feel him as you once did?” Secondo whispers. You cast your gaze down. 

“I’ve never felt him inside me. We abstained for marriage. Marriage never came.” Again, Copia readjusts himself. His eyes seem desperate, with lips parted as if he was in urgent need of relief. A full year sleeping beside one’s bride with no physical contact but a kiss goodnight could do that to a man, even more so now with a year apart of nothing but sexual obsession, a lovely side effect of the affliction.

“Ah. A new sensation it would be then for him to have you.” Copia inhales, and Secondo’s eyes dart to yours. “Think of how he must ache for you,” your husband murmurs, making direct eye contact with Copia. “So close to such a feeling only for it to be torn away by death. To never have felt the sweet warmth of your cunt is a sin.”

Copia lets out a soft moan, and you turn your back against Secondo’s chest to see how pained your once-fiancé looks. Glancing down below, you can see the shape of his cock growing prominent in his pants, the head already forming a visible line through the black fabric. Through a shared gaze, your husband confirms what you want, and looks to the dead man in the doorway.

“Up the stairs. Please.” One of their kind can’t come in unless invited, or so the tales tell. 

Once in the bedroom, you can feel two pairs of animalistic eyes on you as if you’re the only prey in a room full of predators. The candles in the candelabrum have gone out, but Papa rectifies this by striking one of his long nails on the wall, lighting each wick with the burning tip. Soon, the shadows of the room begin to dance as the embrace is taken by your husband. Papa draws you in for a deep kiss, surprisingly rough in nature. You melt into his arms, giving in to wrap your arms around his waist. With his free hand, Papa pushes Copia down onto the bed. 

“Stay, and watch.” You hear Copia’s throaty exhale, but can’t see the lust in his eyes. You’re too busy being devoured by Secondo—as a manner of speaking. Secondo’s tongue works its way inside your mouth, and you close to your eyes to best enjoy the pleasure. He’s come to know exactly how to take you apart. Weak at the knees, you finally break away. Copia’s legs are spread, still sitting. He’s hesitant to relax on your pillows.

“Lay back, eh?” Papa tells him, observing the undeniable bulge between the man’s legs. “You are welcome here.”

“It is your marital bed,” Copia swallows as he attempts the impossible task of making himself modest. If he had blood anymore, his cheeks would be rosy.

“To Hell with that,” Papa responds curtly, drawing you closer into his arms. “It is by no means a sacred place.” Copia accepts this, and eases himself back to watch. Secondo brings his fingers down your body slowly, and grazes between your legs. You buck into him, and just as you prepare for him to reach up under your skirts, instead he moves back up to take your top down, exposing the peaked nipples at the center of your breasts. Your corset had been removed by him earlier, and you’re glad for it. Your bare breasts press against Secondo’s shirt, and he reaches up to take a handful of them both, massaging the soft flesh until you’re sighing into his neck. Behind you, Copia shifts on the bed and stifles a whine.

“Ah,” Secondo’s voice rumbles in his chest. “I forgot we have a guest.” He gently turns you around, and Copia’s lip disappears into his mouth when he sees the top half of your body naked like this. You also feel a sense of bashfulness; Copia had never seen you in the nude before, as you had always been properly virtuous with him and he had never once pushed the boundaries of a gentleman with you. “What do you think of my wife?” Papa grins wolfishly behind you. The reminder is a cruel one, but Copia only barely flinches at it. He’s too consumed, lost in his own mind as he stares at the sight before him. You finally grow squeamish under his unblinking gaze, and Papa senses this. “Go to him, child,” he whispers.

You approach Copia to crawl up on the bed between his legs, your natural state only serving to arouse him further with his own clothes restricting him. It’s as if Copia hasn’t an idea what to do with himself—startled and caught like a deer before light, he licks his lips and eases further down. Summoning the seductress Secondo had awakened inside you these past few months, you reach down to tug at the buttons of his pants. Papa walks over to the bed as you pull Copia’s pants down just enough for his erection to spring out.

“He does not disappoint in size, hm?” your husband purrs. “You had better touch, before he spends himself at the idea alone.” Successfully embarrassed, Copia gives a small cry as you take him in hand. He’s so sensitive, aroused beyond belief. Dipping your head down, your eyes reveal your intentions. When you lick up from his pubic hair to his cockhead, a few drops of precum leak down and onto your tongue. He stutters out a nervous chuckle.

“My apologies, cara. It is only my second time since turning, and everything I feel is a little bit more heightened than I am used to... I have also never seen you in such a position outside of my own mind.”

“Here, we do not apologize for lust,” Secondo interrupts him, and you shake your head with a growing smile.

“Si,” Copia mutters. “A lesson your brother taught me.” He huffs out a shaky breath. Go on, then.” You move your head down again, and collect more of the beading pre on your tongue, savouring the salty flavour you had come to love tasting from your own husband. Copia’s hips rock up just a little, but he keeps himself under control enough to settle down and let you handle him. In one slide, you curl your lips over him to cover your teeth and take him down another few inches. A gasp catches in Copia’s throat, and he tries not to grab at you as you take him down again, further this time.

“Isn’t she so talented at sucking cock?” Papa asks, getting on the bed. It groans under the added weight, and the older man slots himself behind you, admiring your hips with roaming hands. Seconds later, your nightdress is flipped up from the bottom. You hear the sounds of the older man jostling, then feel the surprisingly slick tip of his cock slide between the dripping wetness of your pussy lips. You let out an involuntary moan, and Copia feels the vibrations travel down his shaft.

“Ai!” he cries, hand flying to twist in your hair. Secondo takes to petting your back as he teases himself a little bit deeper through your folds. You can feel Copia leak more fluid onto the back of your tongue, and use that to coat him messily as you dive down to bob your head. After a moment, you come back up, spit and precum connecting your swollen lips to Copia’s cockhead. Papa gives your ass a pat.

“Are you ready for me, dolce?”

“I am,” you breathe.

“Pleasure our little guest nice,” Papa whispers. “While I lead you over the precipice with me.” You sigh as you slide up Copia’s body, dragging your fingers over his light chest hair to feel up his collarbone. You pause at the two raised bumps on his neck, holes from a once bloodied wound, but he doesn’t draw back. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to pull away in repulsion, but you don’t. Secondo doesn’t have marks like these marring his neck... perhaps because his family were born creatures of the night, unlike Copia.

You smooth your hands up his neck and cup his jaw, bringing him in for a dizzying kiss. He keeps his mouth wide open so as not to stimulate his fangs into protruding. Papa’s cock stretches you perfectly, giving you something to rock back on. You move your mouth down to ghost your lips over Copia’s pale skin again, and press fevered kisses down the column of his neck, surprising him by attaching your lips to his bite marks and sucking. His cock jerks between you, and you suck deeper. Copia begins to thrust urgently up against your stomach, the grind making him pant. He suddenly takes you gently by the wrist.

“Stop, amore. Per favore. I... I will finish too soon.”

“You dare call her amore in our marital bed?” Secondo raises a playful eyebrow, dragging out and pumping his cock back into you.

“You have made it quite clear this house is hidden from the eyes of God,” Copia retorts. Secondo’s laughter booms at such a dire truth, but your moans quickly overtake him. You bring your lips back up to Copia’s, feeling the tickle of his mustache. You recall kisses like these when you would greet Copia coming home from his day, or when the two of you woke in the morning. It never went any further than that, though you were sure you heard Copia stifling moans in the washroom after he would leave you in the bed. You have to confess, you had taken care of yourself as well when he was out all day; the tension that raged between the two of you had been palpable and it had been a pity you never got to enjoy one another, but in whatever morbid twist of fate, you were making up for it now. 

Deepening the kiss to unexplored territory, you hitch yourself up, Papa sliding into you by a new angle. He groans behind you, patting your ass more firmly and squeezing as you suck on Copia’s bottom lip. Copia squeezes your arms where they are, your hands cupping his cheeks and your elbows resting on his chest. Every push of Secondo’s hips nudges you forward against him. You feel the air from his nose exhale onto your face; frigid, just as his skin is. The pounding of Papa’s thick cock inside of you sparks your climax, and the pleasure spreads as Copia accidentally fumbles and grabs your breast. You moan into his mouth and cum around Papa’s cock, his slapping behind you never ceasing.

Papa pulls out of you once you’re finished, tugs your nightdress all the way off, and turns you over roughly so that your back is against Copia’s chest. “This way I can look at both of you, hm?” Copia’s cock is trapped behind your back, and you can feel the throb of it. He humps the small of your back for a moment until Papa lifts you up, reaching beneath and taking Copia’s cock in hand. Copia’s head fall forward and yours falls back to fit perfectly in the nape of his neck.

Secondo, still hard and covered in the slick you’d just coated his cock with, takes himself and Copia both in hand. The man behind you mewls and your eyelids droop, watching the two slide together. Your gasp fills the room as your Papa begins dragging the two cocks against you, grinding the soft, wet skin against your sensitive clit. Igniting the warmth in your stomach again, you start to feel a second orgasm build.

“Please... yes,” you chant. Copia’s chest rises and falls beneath you, and his nails dig into your shoulders. You start to hear an unnatural growling from him. Struck with fear and overwhelming arousal at the same time, you tilt your head even further back as your eyes begin to roll. Papa leans forward to kiss your breasts, and squeezes himself and Copia nice as one of their blunt cockheads collides with your clit perfectly. You cry out whichever name comes to mind first, and grind your hips up as another orgasm washes over you. Papa watches you squirt over the cocks he’s jerking together, and Copia begins to take deep, ragged breaths behind you.

“I can’t...” he begins to beg, “I cannot hold it!” He lets out a helpless snarl, and you feel him spurt over Papa’s fist down onto your belly. At the same time, you feel a sharp pain at the base of your neck. Between your own moans, you see your husband shout, trying to wrench Copia away from you, but the snarls only get louder in your ear as you begin to feel lightheaded. In dizzying confusion, you fear Papa’s about to snap Copia’s neck, but something gives him visible pause. He drags his tongue along his bottom lip as you feel something warm drip down your collarbone, leaking down to the top of your breast. Papa inhales deeply, and his pupils dilate. You should be afraid—instead you’re only more aroused, needy as you watch Papa’s fangs protrude to a length you’d never seen them before.

_This must be for feeding._

Your eyes widen as you see his tongue come down and lick the stream of blood away, darting to the other side to puncture your neck and feed. Your limbs feel heavy as Papa lets out a great sigh of relief, as if he’d been denying himself this for an eternity. He has in a way, for you.

Papa finally finishes, kissing the holes he’d left. Copia is still greedily sucking you dry, but Papa takes him off, grabbing him by the collar over your paling shoulder.

“You realize what you have done?!” he hisses. Copia breaks the grip, snapping his teeth back at your Papa.

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” he seethes, gesturing to the blood dripping down Papa’s own chin. You make a feeble noise, and Copia suddenly snaps out of his deadlocked stare-down with the older vampire, blinking in surprise. “Cara?” he whispers. When he sees the blood and realizes indeed what he’d done, he draws back, covering his mouth. “I... I did not mean to!” Papa stays silent; he knows he too is guilty of the ravenous feeding. Instead, your husband kisses your hand in consolation. Coming back to consciousness as if you’d been thrown back from another dimension, you suddenly feel as if everything around you is heightened. What you can see, hear and feel is impossibly brighter, louder and more intense.

“Ah, you are feeling it, si?” Papa whispers, a mournful sorrow in his deep voice. He lays down between your legs, pressing a bloody kiss to your inner thigh. You rub over his knuckles, realizing slowly what happened. The two men hold what little breath they have as you exhale your last amongst the living.

“I feel no regret,” you tell Papa, reaching back to card a hand through Copia’s mussed hair as your husband nuzzles you and your fiancé licks your wound. “I’ve never felt more alive.”


End file.
